How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Toaster
by Lee Atwater
Summary: Beware, Caesar! Beware, NCR! Soon will dawn the age of the Toaster!


"I don't think you're being honest with us about that thing," Arcade said lowly to the Courier, as she lounged across Caesar's throne, her new master resting in her lap.

"What am I lying about?" she asked him, scratching the Toaster between its slots. The story seemed all pretty self-explanatory to her. She went to the Big MT, she met this homicidal toaster, it grabbed onto her when she teleported back, it figured out how to activate the Securitrons beneath the Fort, and now it was the undisputed ruler of the Mojave. What wasn't there to understand? She paused for a moment, thinking about the chain of events. _Well, maybe it wasn't that easy to believe, if you hadn't been there._

"I absolutely refuse to believe that a toaster, of all appliances, has managed to defeat two armies and conquer New Vegas," Arcade said.

"Do you have something against toasters?" asked the Toaster, its coils sparking in anger. "Would you rather be ruled by a filthy miniature _refrigerator, _Doctor? Would a hot plate protect you when I rain down nuclear fire across this wretched desert? You should be thankful that I like your friends so much, or you would be watching as the flesh charred off your bones in my slots!"

"Listen to the Toaster," the Courier said, absent-mindedly.

"That's another issue," Arcade complained. "Why doesn't it like me? It gets along well with everyone else. I mean, if I'm going to be ordered around by a small appliance, I'd like it to at least be one that doesn't hate me for no good reason."

"It hates you because you tried to stick a fork into it last week," she said. "You're lucky that you didn't get ripped into pieces by a Securitron after that."

"Your cowardly attempt on my life has not been forgotten, human doctor," thundered the Toaster, as much as something of that size can thunder. "You want some revenge? I'll show you fucking revenge."

"But it likes Boone," Arcade whined.

"The sniper's single-minded pursuit of vengeance has earned him my respect," said the Toaster. "That is why I've ordered him to mate with the spiky-headed girl, to breed a new, stronger race of flesh creatures."

"You can't just order people to mate, you pile of circuits -" snapped Arcade.

"Come on, Gannon," said the Courier, trying to ease the tension. "Boone doesn't seem particularly upset about it." In all her years, she would never have expected Craig Boone and Julie Farkas to work as a couple, but the faint smile on the First Recon sniper's face and the blush on the Followers' leader recently said it all. She didn't think they'd be breeding any flesh creatures soon, not if Julie had anything to say about it, but it couldn't hurt for them to practice.

"And it positively worships you and Veronica," Arcade continued.

"Why shouldn't I honor the woman who brought me out of my captivity and raised me to the position I now occupy?" asked the Toaster. "She is my mother and my savior." It shook slightly, and seemed embarrassed. "And Miss Veronica has … soft hands. And she smells nice."

"See?" pointed out Arcade. "_See? _We're not following this thing's orders, we're following your orders! Which I don't mind, I've been doing it long enough, but you don't need to pretend you're commanded by a homicidal toaster. That's just humiliating for all of us."

"I will see you burn in the atomic flames, you pile of disgusting organs."

"A homicidal toaster that doesn't even understand the weapons it's threatening people with!" Arcade snarled, clenching his fists. "Do you know anything about how nuclear energy _works_? You can't kill individual people with atomic hellfire."

The flap to the tent was brushed aside by a familiar red-headed figure, her face and clothing stained with sweat and dirt. "Hey, girl," Cass said, walking up to the Courier. "Hey, Toastie. Brought you something." She handed the Courier a dog-eared copy of _Future Weapons Today. _

"Well, Arcade, this should fix the latter issue nicely," responded the Courier. "Toaster, do you want to read all about nuclear weapons and laser death rays for tonight's bedtime story?"

"Great, let's teach it more about weapons of mass destruction," said Arcade, throwing up his hands. "I give up. Keep this charade going as long as you want. Just know that I'm not buying it." The doctor stalked out of the tent, presumably to return to his work.

The Courier sighed. Arcade was one of her closest friends and most trusted companions, but when it came to having a sense of humor, he couldn't see past his own dry wit, and he damned sure didn't appreciate being the butt of a joke. "Cass, what's the status of the project?"

"It's mostly smooth going, although some of those legionary fuckheads are bitching about working under Toastie," the caravan driver responded. "Saying that we're hypocrites for making them slave under a machine's orders."

"You know what to tell them. Six months of reparations to society and they can scuttle back to Arizona, or they can refuse to work and enjoy a spot at the NCR war crimes tribunal." The Courier paused. "The irony is delicious." She relished the idea of the legionaries having to do the heavy lifting for once.

"One more thing. That biological research station has been acting up again. Veronica doesn't like it. She says it's a sexual predator. I told it to stop talking about its fucking seed, but you know how it gets. And since it's the linchpin of this whole thing, we can't just shut it down for a few days as punishment."

The Toaster's coils lit up. "Miss Veronica said that? Securitrons!" The two machines idling in the corners of the tent rolled over as the Toaster's cord coiled in anger. "Securitrons, tell the research station to shape up, or I will have it stripped to its components and turned into a toilet."

"Might want to think up another punishment, Toastie," said Cass. "It's enough of a perv that it'd probably enjoy that. Damned thing's worse than FISTO."

"Nothing is worse than FISTO," the Courier said. "Toaster, stay here and rule things. With your firm mechanical justice tempered on the hot coils of mercy, or whatever. Cass and I are going for a walk." She rose to her feet and they left the tent, the sounds of the Toaster and the Securitrons trying to come up with an appropriate consequence for the research station fading into the dirt behind them.

The Courier eyed the former Legion camp, now repurposed for the greater good of the Mojave under the benevolent rule of her little friend. The biological research station, for all of its disturbing innuendo, was a hell of a tool. Once the soil was prepared, they'd be able to use it to grow enough food to feed half of New Vegas. The whole thing had been Julie and Arcade's suggestion. It was a pity that the blond medic couldn't see past his irrational hatred for the Toaster to appreciate their work.

"You should lay off of Arcade, you know," Cass murmured under her breath, watching the legionaries toil in the sun. "He gets really upset when you act like that thing's in charge. Just tell him."

"Arcade needs to learn to take a joke," the Courier muttered. "He should know better, being from the Enclave and all. If everyone thinks the Toaster's in charge, then the NCR can hang the Toaster for betraying them at the Dam, instead of all of us." She thought for a moment. "Well, the NCR can try to hang the Toaster, anyway. It'll probably just dangle by its cord and threaten to 'fuck their shit up.'"

"Do you really think the NCR is stupid enough to buy that?" asked Cass, her eyes dilating slightly as she focused on something.

"They've been stupid enough to buy it so far. You'd be surprised what a little persuasiveness and some fake terror and crying can do. What the hell are you staring at, anyway?"

"Second legionary from the right in the front row," Cass said casually. "Can we have him oiled up and brought to my tent after sunset?"

"Gross, Cass," snapped the Courier, rolling her eyes. "He's like half your age. And the enemy. Don't creep out on the enemy. I think FISTO is rubbing off on you." She instantly regretted her phrasing of that sentence. "Can you go see what the Toaster's thought up to punish the research station? Because whatever it came up with, I'm going to do it to you the next time you want to go all cougar on me."

Cass gave her a predatory grin and headed back to the Toaster's tent. The Courier thought for a moment. She'd tell Arcade in a few days, she decided. It wasn't fair to her friend to make him suffer like this. She'd just have to show him the switch she found on its underside the other week. Dr. Mobius may have been a genius, but he sucked at coming up with toaster settings:

LIGHT  
MEDIUM  
DARK  
BURN EVERYTHING

The "burn everything" was being taken a bit too literally. She needed it evil enough to make the Wasteland quake in fear at its power, but able to shut up about nuclear annihilation for three goddamned seconds. She'd set it to dark, she decided. Dark could be fun.


End file.
